Chapter X. The General

by Horatio Alger

　　The clouds were darkening, and the shower was evidently not faroff. It was a solitary place, and no houses were to be seen nearby. But nearly a quarter of a mile back Harry caught sight of asmall house, and jumping over the fence directed his steps towardit. Five minutes brought him to it. It was small, painted red,originally, but the color had mostly been washed away. It wasnot upon a public road, but there was a narrow lane leading to itfrom the highway. Probably it was occupied by a poor family, Harrythought. Still it would shelter him from the storm which had evennow commenced.He knocked at the door.Immediately it was opened and a face peered out--the face of a manadvanced in years. It was thin, wrinkled, and haggard. The thinwhite hair, uncombed, gave a wild appearance to the owner, who, ina thin, shrill voice, demanded, "Who are you?""My name is Harry Walton.""What do you want?""Shelter from the storm. It is going to rain.""Come in," said the old man, and opening the door wider, he admittedour hero.Harry found himself in a room very bare of furniture, but therewas a log fire in the fireplace, and this looked comfortable andpleasant. He laid down his bundle, and drawing up a chair sat downby it, his host meanwhile watching him closely."Does he live alone, I wonder?" thought Harry.He saw no other person about, and no traces of a woman's presence.The floor looked as if it had not been swept for a month, andprobably it had not.The old man sat down opposite Harry, and stared at him, till ourhero felt somewhat embarrassed and uncomfortable."Why don't he say something?" thought Harry."He is a very queer old man."After a while his host spoke."Do you know who I am?" he asked."No," said Harry, looking at him."You've heard of me often," pursued the old man."I didn't know it," answered Harry, beginning to feel curious."In history," added the other."In history?""Yes."Harry began to look at him in increased surprise."Will you tell me your name, if it is not too much trouble," heasked, politely."I gained the victory of New Orleans," said the old man."I thought General Jackson did that," said Harry."You're right," said the old man, complacently. "I am GeneralJackson.""But General Jackson is dead.""That's a mistake," said the old man, quietly. "That's what theysay in all the books, but it isn't true."This was amusing, but it was also startling. Harry knew now thatthe old man was crazy, or at least a monomaniac, and, though heseemed harmless enough, it was of course possible that he mightbe dangerous. He was almost sorry that he had sought shelter here.Better have encountered the storm in its full fury than place himselfin the power of a maniac. The rain was now falling in thick drops,and he decided at any rate to remain a while longer. He knew thatit would not be well to dispute the old man, and resolved to humorhis delusion."You were President once, I believe?" he asked."Yes," said the old man; "and you won't tell anybody, will you?""No.""I mean to be again," said the old man in a low voice, half in awhisper. "But you mustn't say anything about it. They'd try to killme, if they knew it.""Who would?""Mr. Henry Clay, and the rest of them.""Doesn't Henry Clay want you to be President again?""Of course not. He wants to be President himself. That's why I'mhiding. They don't any of them know where I am. You won't tell,will you?""No.""You might meet Henry Clay, you know."Harry smiled to himself. It didn't seem very likely that he wouldever find himself in such distinguished company, for Henry Claywas at that time living, and a United States Senator."What made you come here, General Jackson?" he inquired.The old man brightened, on being called by this name."Because it was quiet. They can't find me here.""When do you expect to be President again?""Next year," said the old man. "I've got it all arranged. My friendsare to blow up the capitol, and I shall ride into Washington on awhite horse. Do you want an office?""I don't know but I should like one," said Harry, amused."I'll see what I can do for you," said the old man, seriously. "Ican't put you in my Cabinet. That's all arranged. If you would liketo be Minister to England or to France, you can go.""I should like to go to France. Benjamin Franklin was Minister toFrance.""Do you know him?""No; but I have read his life.""I'll put your name down in my book. What is it?""Harry Walton."The old man went to the table, on which was a common account book.He took a pen, and, with a serious look, made this entry:"I promise to make Harry Walton Minister to France, as soon as Itake my place in the White House."GENERAL ANDREW JACKSON""It's all right now," he said."Thank you, general. You are very kind," said our hero."Were you ever a soldier?" asked his host."I never was.""I thought you might have been in the battle of New Orleans. Ourmen fought splendidly, sir.""I have no doubt of it.""You'll read all about it in history. We fought behind cotton bales.It was glorious!""General," said Harry, "if you'll excuse me, I'll take out my supperfrom this bundle.""No, no," said the old man; "you must take supper with me.""I wonder whether he has anything fit to eat," thought Harry. "Thankyou," he said aloud. "If you wish it."The old man had arisen, and, taking a teakettle, suspended it overthe fire. A monomaniac though he was on the subject of his identitywith General Jackson, he knew how to make tea. Presently he tookfrom the cupboard a baker's roll and some cold meat, and when thetea was ready, invited Harry to be seated at the table. Our herodid so willingly. He had lost his apprehensions, perceiving thathis companion's lunacy was of a very harmless character."What if mother could see me now!" he thought.Still the rain poured down. It showed no signs of slackening. Hesaw that it would be necessary to remain where he was through thenight."General, can you accommodate me till morning?" he asked."Certainly," said the old man. "I shall be glad to have you stayhere. Do you go to France to-morrow?""I have not received my appointment yet.""True, true; but it won't be long. I will write your instructionsto-night.""Very well."The supper was plain enough, but it was relished by our youngtraveler, whose long walk had stimulated a naturally good appetite."Eat heartily, my son," said the old man. "A long journey is beforeyou."After the meal was over, the old man began to write.Harry surmised that it was his instructions. He paid little heed,but fixed his eyes upon the fire, listening to the rain thatcontinued to beat against the window panes, and began to speculateabout the future. Was he to be successful or not? He was not withoutsolicitude, but he felt no small measure of hope. At nine o'clockhe began to feel drowsy, and intimated as much to his host. The oldman conducted him to an upper chamber, where there was a bed uponthe floor."You can sleep there," he said."Where do you sleep?" asked Harry."Down below; but I shall not go to bed till late. I must get readyyour instructions.""Very well," said Harry. "Good night.""Good night.""I am glad he is not in the room with me," thought Harry. "I don'tthink there is any danger, but it isn't comfortable to be too neara crazy man."